


Somebody

by orphan_account



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur is being angsty, F/M, M/M, someone is listening to 'Pumped up Kicks' far too loudly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-12
Updated: 2012-05-12
Packaged: 2017-11-05 05:56:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/403150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur is trying (and failing) to understand why he always likes the wrong person.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somebody

Whenever I like somebody, it's always the wrong damn person. I liked Gwen – but no, that's wrong, because she's not a noble. And now, I like – well, I like someone whom I shouldn't, to be honest, and yes, this person is a servant, but worse…this person is a boy. And it's wrong, I know, but it isn't bloody well something I can help. In a perfect world, I'd marry anybody I'd like – I'd have eight wives, husbands, whatever, if I wished – but I don't live in that world. I live in Briton and, being the Prince, I have to do what I'm expected to do. Marry some blithering, in-bred idiot…like Morgana. And that isn't fair, because I can think of a million people I'd rather marry than her…

Although only two I'd really wish to…

And at the moment, only one comes to mind…and, also at the moment, he is sitting on the floor on the other side of the room, painstakingly washing every millimeter of the floor, as if every crack and crevice deserved special care and attention – was a person in its own right. Despite the rather menial task, I suppose the concentration and dedication are admirable.

He looks up from his task, but before he can say something snarky to me, I ask "I still don't understand how washing a floor can possibly take you this long, Merlin."

He shakes his head at me. "No, you wouldn't, sire."

I tap my foot on the floor, trying hard to find something else to say at him (and trying to repress my urge to throw something at him, as I've been told that might cause significant damage to the brain, and he's careless enough as is). "Well, come on, Merlin, we haven't got all day."

"We?" he asks, without even looking up.

"Yes, I've got practicing to do."

He smirks and again, without looking up, replies, "Well, flattered though I am, my Lord, I do not believe you need me to teach you fighting skills. I think you can manage on your own."

Finally, not throwing something at his head has become too much to bear. So, I pick a pillow up off of my bed and launch it at him, hitting him from the side and dousing the floor in water. I laugh and turn away, so that he cannot see how much I am blushing. Soon I am attacked by my own pillow and Merlin repeatedly hits me over the head. I grab another, turn around and begin to swing it at him. It is now a competition to see how many times one can hit the other without being hit themselves – and, surprisingly, Merlin is winning.

"How is this for training, sire?" he laughs, but he slips on his still-wet floor. I raise my pillow above my head to hit him with it, but he kicks at my legs and sends me sprawling to the floor. I quickly thwart his intentions to stand up by grabbing his leg and forcing him back down, face to the floor. I climb over top of him and raise my pillow to smack him again when an unsure _eh-hem?_ comes from the doorway.

Morgana is standing in the door, already done up for the day and looking suspiciously at us. "I heard a bunch of shouting and thumping. I'd thought maybe there was a rat again." She tilts her head at me, blinking without emotion. Then I realize I am still sitting on Merlin and blush, turning around.

"Yes, well…No, I was just practicing –"

"Using pillows?" Morgana asks.

"Yes. There's…less of a chance of…hurting people that way."

Morgana looks at me suspiciously again, clearly wondering why I suddenly care about hurting people. Or rather, why I care about hurting Merlin, of all people. She doesn't ask, though, simply stalking out the way she came. I still, for good measure, though, knock Merlin back to the floor when he stats to stand up again. We wouldn't want him questioning why I suddenly care about him, either.

**Author's Note:**

> this is just a one-shot character musing for the moment. Could be longer later on, though.


End file.
